


pull

by destinedtobelokid



Series: one word prompts [19]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinedtobelokid/pseuds/destinedtobelokid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulled the trigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull

Dan stood still, staring down the barrel of the gun held inches from his face. His body trembled, shaking from the blood loss and the virus seeping into his bloodstream and burning through his body. His arms were limp, hanging uselessly at his side. His left forearm was torn and bloody from the teeth that had sunk into his flesh to gnaw at the bone. He couldn't feel the pain from the wound anymore. His arm was numb, the only thing he felt was the cold fire paralysing his body and eating away his humanity. He didn't have long left and both he and Phil knew it.

Phil was in front of Dan, his outstretched arm and the gun aimed at Dan's head spreading across the distance between them. Phil's clothes were dirtied and bloody, the gore and grime collected from weeks of trying to survive in a world filled with the walking dead. His face was pale, with a smear of red across his cheek and mud mattered through his hair. His eyes were red-rimmed and wide. Half of Dan wanted to comfort Phil, to drag him down into his embrace and make it all go away, but the other half... Dan didn't want to think about what the other half wanted to do to Phil.

"I'm sorry, Dan." Phil's voice was hoarse. He sniffed and let out a shaky breath. "I'm so, so fucking sorry."

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't form words. A strangled sob escaped his mouth and he bit his lip to trap the rest. His vision blurred, Phil's shaking figure and the shining silver of the gun faded. There's red too, creeping in through the margins of his vision, shading his sight with a bloody haze.

"There isn't a cure, Dan. There's isn't a cure..." Phil mumbled. There's a hint of desperation in his voice and Dan wonders if Phil is actually talking Dan or himself. "There isn't a cure- I... I can't save you..."

The gun wavered as Phil's are shook. Phil gasped in a breath and bowed his head for a moment. As he did, the dim light of their dying lantern highlighted his face, and Dan could see the shining trails of tears.

Dan swallowed. His throat burned. There was a thirst, a craving in him now, this need pounding through him. He opened his eyes and stared at Phil, his stomach churning and growling. His mouth watered at the sight of Phil's pale neck, at the sound of his heart beat and the blood pumping through his long, lean body.

" _Phil..._ " Dan's mouth hissed, but the voice- oh God, the voice wasn't his own. It was a low rasping groan, much alike the moaning sounds of the zombies trying to claw their way into the small shed Dan and Phil had taken refuge.

"God, Dan, I'm sorry... I promised... We promised we wouldn't let each other change." Phil sobbed, hard, ripping gasps torn from his lungs. His throat was raw and his chest ached and he felt so light headed and tired.

He stared what used to be his boyfriend. Dan's normally brown iris' were almost completely grey, a thin ring of brown surrounding his pupil was all that remained of Dan's once familiar eyes and his mouth was slack as low breathes were dragged between his cracked lips. His eyes- Phil could barely look at them- were glued to Phil, staring at him, devouring him as though he were Dan's next meal-

Phil's stomach rolled and bile rose in his throat. He cleared his throat, and hefted his arm a little higher, flexed his hand and tightened his grip on the gun. Aiming straight between Dan's eyebrows. "You won't feel it, Dan." Phil told him. "I promise. I won't let you become one of them."

Dan groaned, and started to lift his arm, extending his awkwardly bent fingers out to Phil. Phil took a step backwards. Dan tried to follow, his feet dragging sluggishly, the soles scraping against the splintered wooden floorboards.

" _Phil, please..._ " The alien voice came from Dan's mouth.

"I love you." Phil whispered, cocking the gun. "I'm sorry."

He pulled the trigger.

Dan's eyes were glossy, blood trickling down his nose and over his eyes and cheeks, his body was completely still for a split second before he crumbled to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

Phil dropped to his knees. He scrambled away from Dan's body, away from the blood pooling around his head in a crimson halo, pressing his back against the wall. The cold of the steel went straight through Phil's thin shirt, numbing his back and making the hairs on his arms stand up.

The zombies, God, there had to beat least twenty of them. They were all so loud and _so damn close_. Phil stared at the gun clutched in his hand.

He had one bullet left.

Phil tossed his head back, hitting it against the sheet of steel protecting him from the monsters trying break into the shed. Phil brought a hand to his mouth, smothering his sobs. Eyes closed, breathing choked, hands shaking, he cocked the gun. The click was lost to the mindless groans echoing around him.

He brought the gun up, pressing the cool barrel to his temple.

To Phil's right, the door shuddered and creaked as blood smeared hands pummelled against it. The glass windows shattered, the sharp shards raining down around the shed. The calls and groans were loud and growing louder as arms reached through the windows, followed by heads and shoulders. Phil opened his eyes, staring at Dan's bloodied, broken body.

He pulled the trigger.


End file.
